phantasmic embers
by ultraviolets
Summary: — your passion will ignite your soul • caradoc dearborn and what it means to fight


_I am warm_

 _Floating down_

 _I am reborn…_

Caradoc Dearborn was seventeen years old when he finally found purpose. A wide-eyed Gryffindor just out of Hogwarts, he had become used to his professor's comments in his seven years of schooling. They would prattle on about how brilliant of a wizard Caradoc could be if he would just _pay attention_. To which he replied that he would.

Someday.

He just needed to find something that would be worth his potential.

For despite what his professors might have thought, Caradoc possessed a will to fight, a fire within him that could not be dampened. But, those embers also happened to be dangerous, wayward things. Its flames may have been inextinguishable, but they also could not be controlled. Caradoc was the kind of boy who did what he wanted when he wanted to, regardless of what others said.

That was what had driven him to contact the elusive Albus Dumbledore. Caradoc was a pureblood, his classmates had told him upon hearing the idea, whispered like a terrible secret one night in the dark recesses of the common room. A disheartening mixture of fear and disapproval shone in their eyes as they reminded him that he would be welcomed into the new world the Dark Lord was creating with open arms.

Caradoc was not sure that was the world he wanted to be a part of. He had always, despite his exuberant personality, been drawn away from the crowd. Why try and blend in, he had often questioned, when it was so much more rewarding to stand out?

The Order of the Phoenix offered just that.

A chance to fight for what he knew was right.

A purpose.

He did not hesitate for even the briefest of moments before swearing his allegiance to them.

* * *

Caradoc had all but forgotten what serenity was. He'd been reckless when joining the Order, foolhardy as he'd sought adventure and passion over everything else- even his own safety. Now, he was paying the price.

His fire had not dimmed, but it had certainly darkened, a shadow cast over it that deepened each time Dumbledore looked towards their dwindling numbers, sorrow in his eyes as he informed them of another loss.

Caradoc quickly learned not to get too attached. The friendly, amiable young man who had joined the Order with such vigor disappeared in a matter of months, leaving a battle-hardened warrior in his place. He certainly tried to hold himself up, taking his losses with pride and wearing his scars like trophies. But each comrade taken from them was only another sign to Caradoc of how futile it all was. Nevertheless, he forced himself to keep going, for those sparks inside of him that refused to subside.

He fought with everything in him, for the allies who had become nothing but ashes, reigniting them in his heart.

Months later, he realized that those cinders had not warmed the fire. Instead, they had diminished it.

* * *

Caradoc's last battle was an unceremonious affair.

His goodbyes were sentimental things, feeling numb on his lips as he said them.

He walked away from the Order as though he would come back and reunite with who was left once it was all over. After all, Caradoc Dearborn was not one to lose.

He had had so many victories he'd all but forgotten the melancholy sort of feeling that came with failure.

For somewhere along the line, the shadow had encompassed the flame, the blaze becoming not one of life but one of susceptibility. He was slowly burning away, from the inside out. Each loss had only fueled it, and his spirit, once so vivacious, had become charred.

And so when Cardoc saw the flash of green light towards him, the shout of the Killing Curse muffled in his ears-

He let himself feel the fierce beat of his heart and the ferocity of a life that would shine for the barest moment, there and then gone.

It was odd, how it felt to finally have those sparks diminished. Blazing one moment, doused the next. A shock of cold water, drenching him and leaving him raw. Stripped away, but purer somehow.

Caradoc Dearborn was nineteen years old when he finally found peace.


End file.
